Romancing the Pirate

by Michelle Beattie

  “Are you mad?” he demanded.

  “I can do this,” Alicia tried again. In retrospect, she should have eased him into the subject, rather than simply asking him to run the shop while she went to search for someone she herself hadn’t known about until the night before last.

  “No,” he stated, picking up the steel. “No, you can’t. You are far too young and naive for this kind of undertaking.”

  “I’m not a child, Charles. I can take care of myself.”

  His eyes bulged in his head. “Here maybe, where you know people and it’s familiar, but out there?” He gestured to the window, his arm waving madly. “I’ll worry myself sick about you.” He wiped the sweat from his brow. “Your father must be rolling in his grave as we speak.”

  Alicia sighed. “He’s the one who told me, remember?”

  “I’m sure he hadn’t figured on you going it alone. How are you getting to Tortuga anyhow?”

  “I bartered passage,” she said. He raised an eyebrow and she added, “I’ll need money to do this and I don’t have very much to spare. You can’t afford to come with me and I can’t afford a chaperone.”

  “I’m sure your aunt would pay for one.”

  Alicia laughed. “If she knew about this, she’d lock me up in her house, never to be free again.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Charles mumbled, running his hand over the blade.

  “I’ll be fine. Pounding on steel day in and day out has given me strength. Besides, I haven’t worked years in this shop without learning how to use each and every weapon.”

  He sighed heavily. “And you’ll be taking along at least five of each?”

  She smiled affectionately. “I promise to get word to you as soon as I can.”

  Charles leaned heavily against the workbench. “Tortuga of all places is not where a young woman ought to be, especially by herself.”

  “It won’t be for long. Only until I find Mr. Merritt.”

  He rubbed his stubbled jaw. “It strikes me as odd that your father would send you to someone I’ve never heard of.”

  Alicia shrugged, examined the rows of knives, and took two that were small enough to hide. She slipped them into the waist of her trousers. She chose a small pistol that would be easily concealed and ignored Charles’s tortured moan as she did.

  “Well, it must be someone he trusts, or he wouldn’t have.” She picked a sword, held it out, swished it back and forth, and added it to her arsenal.

  “Here,” Charles said, taking a larger pistol from a shelf. “You better take this as well.”

  Four

  The rum wasn’t working, and it wasn’t from a lack of effort on Blake Merritt’s part. He hollered for another and knew he was in dire straits when the wench who brought it to him didn’t stir a reaction from him no matter how much bosom escaped her bodice. Normally he would have taken her up on her wink and seductive laugh. He’d have followed her upstairs and buried his problems with meaningless sex. But nothing was normal and hadn’t been for almost a week. Not since he’d gotten word.

  He swallowed half the contents of his mug in one long gulp.

  “Blake, lad,” thundered a voice over the curses and carousing that had the walls of Doubloons trembling. “Where ya been? ’Aven’t seen ya in months.”

  Blake raised his head, his gaze scaling the giant’s body until he reached the man’s face. “Well, then, Captain, I take it you haven’t been around much, because I’ve been here for days.”

  Captain took a seat, saving Blake’s neck. His large hand covered a good portion of the table when he leaned forward.

  “No, can’t say I ’ave. I’ve been a little … preoccupied.” He grinned.

  Knowing just what he meant didn’t help Blake feel any better. He himself hadn’t been able to summon up a desire to do more than drink lately.

  “So,” Captain said, smacking the table and making it quiver, “what’s bringin’ ya by, then? It’s not like ya to stay fer long.”

  Blake shrugged, not in the mood to discuss his problems.

  Captain’s booming voice made Blake wince. “ ’Tis a wench. ’Tis always about one, ain’t it? Which one wanted ya to marry her this time?”

  Despite his mood, Blake chuckled. Captain was right. Every time he came to Tortuga, he seemed to find himself at the receiving end of a marriage proposal.

  “Not this time. Although I must say, as much as I hate those proposals, I’d greatly prefer one right about now.”

  Captain’s eyes danced and he leaned back in his chair, which groaned under the effort. “Well, let’s see if we can change yer luck.”

  Shaking his head, Blake went back to drinking. Captain, though, was determined in his quest. He was scouring the room, listing off reasons each of the women he spotted wouldn’t work. “No, she’s trouble, likely to cut yer throat during the throes of passion if yer not careful. That one is too old, that one too young. Her ya said no to at least twice already.” He turned back to Blake, his gray eyes laughing. “Now I see why yer alone.”

  Blake raised his mug in salute and took another long gulp. He nearly choked on it when Captain slapped him hard on the back.

  “By God, lad. There’s one fer ya! And if ya don’t want her, I’ll have her fer meself!” he said excitedly.

  Blake shouldn’t have looked. He should have listened to the warning bell that chimed in his head a moment before he raised it to see who Captain had spotted. Instead his eyes made contact with the woman—girl—in question and he groaned, wishing yet again that the damn rum had taken him to oblivion.

  Alicia Davidson. She stumbled when she recognized him, but after catching herself, turned from Blake and continued on to the barman. Perfect, Blake thought. Not only was the rum ineffective, but one of the reasons he’d needed the alcohol to begin with was now across the room from him.

  “Land sakes, lad, how do ya do it? The woman barely steps into the door and already she targets ya?” Captain shook his head in disbelief. “Whatever spell it is ya have on the wenches, lad, could ya teach it to me?”

  “Right now it isn’t a spell, Captain, it’s a curse. And you can have her, I’m not interested.”

  His friend licked his meaty lips. “Yer loss. Wish me luck,” Captain said, grinding his chair back against the scarred wooden floor as he stood.

  Blake grimaced. Luck. He didn’t remember what that was anymore. Leaning back in his own chair, he watched Captain stomp over to Alicia and grinned despite himself when she took a step back. Captain was heads taller than anyone else, and with his large girth and booming voice, most people tended to be afraid of him at first, until they got to know him and realized he was more jellyfish than shark.

  Despite the fact that her presence tightened the muscles across his shoulders, Blake found himself watching her and Captain. What could they be talking about? he wondered. Surely she had no business in Tortuga. Shouldn’t she be home mourning her precious father?

  Suddenly Captain’s face lit up brighter than the candles clustered on the tables. He turned to Blake, his grin from ear to ear. Blake’s stomach clenched. What was going on? Then, before he had any more time to ponder that, Captain took Alicia by the arm and led her straight to their table. Was he stark raving mad?

  “Blake, lad,” he bellowed, swinging an arm around Alicia’s shoulders, the weight of which had her stumbling. Captain yanked her back. “Ya did it again. ’Tis you she’s looking for.”

  “Fantastic,” Blake muttered. “My luck keeps getting better.”

  She didn’t look any happier than he did, which was some comfort.

  “You’re Blake Merritt?” she asked.

  “Last time I checked.”

  Alicia exhaled heavily. “Well, this is unexpected.”

  “As is your presence here.” He looked over her brown trousers and white shirt. “Mourning periods must be getting shorter and shorter.”

  Her mouth pinched and he saw her hands curl and uncurl at her sides. “I am in mourning, but it’s not pract
ical to travel in a heavy skirt. And I’m here because I require your help.”

  Blake crossed his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t aware that I’d given you the impression of someone who cared.”

  “Blimey, Blake,” Captain whispered, or tried to. With Captain, even his whispers echoed.

  “You haven’t,” she answered. “And had I known it was you he’d sent me to, I may have reconsidered.”

  Blake gestured to the door. “It’s never too late.”

  “And give you the satisfaction? I think not.”

  “Well, let’s say I am not in the giving mood. Whatever it was you needed from me, you’ll have to find elsewhere.”

  “What is it ya need?” Captain asked.

  Blake was glad when she turned her face away from him. It gave him an opportunity to study her. She was dressed as a man; she’d tied her hair back in a braid that fell in a thick rope to the middle of her back. At the grave site he’d concentrated mostly on his loathing of her and the bitterness he felt toward Jacob. He hadn’t paid attention to the details. Now, by glow of candlelight, he saw her hair was the color of honey fresh from the comb. The fact that he noticed it did nothing to improve an already sour mood.

  “I’m looking for someone. Her name is Samantha. She was last seen five years ago leaving Port Royal on a stolen sloop.”

  “Well, now that we have so much to go on, let’s not waste any more time. I mean, five years. Why, she’s practically around the corner,” Blake taunted.

  Alicia’s cheeks turned bright red. Blake called out for another rum. The girl was insane if she thought he’d sail aimlessly, to help her no less. “Over my dead body,” he grumbled.

  “Samantha …” Captain said with some thought. “Are ya family?”

  Alicia nodded. “She’s my sister. But I don’t know where she is.”

  “Good luck,” Blake answered. When his rum was brought to him, he smiled his warmest smile and flirted with the wench. It gave him supreme satisfaction to see Alicia frown.

  “And she’s in a sloop, ya say?”

  “No,” Blake corrected, wiping his mouth. “She was five years ago.”

  Alicia glared at Blake, her blue eyes sparking. He smiled in return.

  “That’s what I was told,” she said, once again talking to Captain.

  “Hmm …” Captain said, rubbing his protruding belly. “I don’t know ’ow much value this is to ya, but me knows a Samantha.”

  “Oh, good. I’ll go ready the ship,” Blake muttered.

  “She’s about yer height, a little older. Her hair is darker than yers, but I know her and Luke own a sloop.” He shrugged. “Might be the same girl.”

  “You expect me to sail off to …”

  Captain finally turned from Alicia to Blake. “St. Kitts.”

  Blake choked. “You want me to sail to St. Kitts on the chance that this is the same woman?” He looked from Captain to Alicia, not sure who was crazier. “I won’t waste my bloody time, nor that of my crew.”

  “How far is St. Kitts?” Alicia asked.

  “At least a six days’ sail, longer if ya get bad weather.”

  Alicia paled and her hand fluttered at her stomach. She swallowed hard. “That long?”

  Blake gulped his rum, glad when his head swayed a little. Maybe it was finally starting to take effect.

  “Doesn’t matter how long it takes as I won’t be taking you.”

  Her hand dropped back to her side. “We’ve never met. Why is it that you hate me so?”

  Though the rum was starting to work, it wasn’t enough to shut out her words. And it certainly wasn’t enough to tell her the reason for his hatred.

  “I’ve heard of you, let’s leave it at that. And I won’t sail you anywhere. Therefore, it appears you’ve wasted your time.”

  “I don’t relish the idea of sailing with pirates either, Mr. Merritt, but I was sent to you.”

  Blake’s teeth gnashed at the term. Perhaps to others there was little difference between privateers and pirates, but to Blake the difference was enormous. He considered himself an honorable man and in his mind there wasn’t much honorable about piracy. Yes, he took Spanish ships, but only for the gold. He gave the rest, other than his share and that of his crew, to the same government that issued him the letters of marque—the papers that told him what he was doing was within the boundaries of the law.

  He made a point of being fair, and he never raped women or murdered for the pure pleasure of it, even though some privateers used their papers as a licence to pirate. Though Blake knew the line between privateers and pirates was thin, he nonetheless prided himself on being on the right side of that line.

  “I sail a privateer’s vessel.” He loathed that he felt the need to explain himself to this little chit.

  She shrugged, pulled an envelope from the bag she carried, and dropped it on the table, directly under his nose.

  “Then perhaps this will change your mind, Mr. Privateer.”

  He recognized the swirl of letters and knew who’d written his name.

  “Where did you get this?” he demanded, all fuzziness gone from his head.

  “I found it in my father’s effects. There was a letter for me as well. He was the one who told me that I should seek your help if I decided to look for Samantha.”

  “How is it ya don’t know where she is?” Captain asked.

  Though telling strangers the intimate details of her life wasn’t something she relished, she hoped it would help them understand her need to find Samantha.

  “We were separated years ago. I don’t remember anything before I was twelve, and that includes Samantha.”

  Blake sneered. “Let me guess. Your loving father knew all along you had family out there, and he only decided to tell you after he’d died?”

  She looked down her nose at him, her color returning. “That’s right.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” he muttered.

  “He also said you were a good man that I could trust.”

  Her tone left no doubt that she believed the complete opposite.

  Blake didn’t open the letter. It was too late for words or apologies or anything else that could be written on that parchment. And her sad tale didn’t change that. If anything, it infuriated him further. He refused to let himself be used.

  “Well?” Captain asked, his gaze darting between her and Blake. “What’ll it be?”

  Blake leaned forward, shoving aside the letter with his elbow. “I’ll tell you what it’ll be,” he answered, his gaze piercing hers. “It’ll be a cold day in Hell before I take you anywhere.”

  Her jaw clenched and her eyes hardened. She braced her hands on the table and leaned forward. “I don’t know who you are, or how you knew my father, but clearly he was mistaken about you.”

  “That, my dear, is the first thing you’ve said that I agree with.” And because the truth of that haunted him every day, he raised his cup to his lips and drank.

  Alicia wrenched open the door of Doubloons and stomped outside. It was no quieter there. Men whistled and yelled after women while the women taunted and shrieked at the men. Dogs barked and horses clomped through the streets. Pistols were fired skyward for no other reason, it seemed, than to add to the cacophony. Alicia envied these people their lack of troubles.

  She, on the other hand, was now in quite a predicament. The ship that had taken her to Tortuga had sailed on once Alicia had confirmed that Mr. Merritt was ashore, and now the same blasted man refused to help her. She was stuck with no place to stay and no means of getting home. Kicking a rock down the cobblestone street, Alicia couldn’t help but wish it was Blake’s head.

  “Arrogant, loathsome man,” she grumbled. Because the weight of the bag she carried was beginning to hurt her shoulder, Alicia set it at her feet. She’d no sooner put it down than it was nearly trampled by a drunkard who’d stumbled out the door of Doubloons. His rancid breath washed over her and the odor of skin too long without a bath curled around her.
/>   “ ’Scuse me,” he mumbled before staggering away, a loud belch ripping the air.

  Alicia wrinkled her nose, grabbed her bag, and decided to start moving. She needed to find a place for the night where she could rest and think. Because she knew one thing—even without Blake Merritt’s help, she wasn’t giving up. If she had family, she was going to find it. She simply didn’t know at the moment how that was going to be possible.

  Just then, the door opened again, spilling the din of the tavern into the river of debauchery that was the streets of Tortuga. If Alicia hadn’t decided it already by the light of day, she did now. Tortuga was not a place she ever wanted to see again.

  “Ah, good. I was afraid ya’d be long gone.”

  Alicia turned to the voice and smiled ruefully. “I would be if I had a place to go.”

  The giant grinned. “That’s easily solved. I ’ave a place ya can stay until mornin’.”

  Alicia nearly swallowed her tongue. “And Charles thought I was mad.”

  His smile twisted into a snarl. Alicia took a step back. “I’m not mad, missy. But ya need a place to stay, don’t ya?”

  “Well …”

  “Yes or no?” he asked.

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Then let’s go.”

  He made to leave, assuming Alicia would follow. She grabbed his arm.

  “I can’t go with you. I don’t even know you.”

  “Well, how long does that take? I ain’t sittin’ out here with the drunkards all night, missy. We’re likely to either get shot or trampled.”

  Even as he said it, two brawling men came tumbling around the corner straight for them. The giant simply shook his head, extended one meaty arm in front of Alicia, and shoved both men to the ground with little more than a push.

  “Well? ’Ave ya made up yer mind yet?”

  She sighed. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer …”

  “Captain. And I don’t see ya gettin’ any better ones.”

  “I don’t think I’d accept them even if I did.”

  “Ya can trust me.” He smiled and Alicia was happy to see his eyes were neither full of rum nor evil. “I can tell ya what I know of Samantha.”